


In Honor of Nothing That Should Never Not Be Unknown

by Aesoleucian



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesoleucian/pseuds/Aesoleucian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a sad shortage of fanfiction about Dana, who is clearly the best character. So I decided to fix that! </p><p>I'll add a chapter every five entries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Days 1-5

Day 1.  
Against all probability, I find myself inside the Dog Park, writing journal entries in blood on the ground. I never thought something like this would happen when I volunteered to be an intern for NVCR… Anyway, the sky has become an inky void so I think we’ve left the normal dimension for now. I’ll explore more tomorrow, see if I can find a way out. I can see the plagues of void locusts becoming a bit of a bother.

\--

Day 2.  
Surprisingly, the Dog Park is exactly the same size inside as outside. I was expecting some kind of space anomaly, but it looks like all the Hooded Figures do here is glide around and have secret conferences. Maybe this is just where they live. Did see a few conjuring some arcane demon or something, but it’s not like they don’t do that back home.  
TO DO:  
Find source of fresh water  
Find source of food  
Find a way to contact Night Vale (no rocks the right size to throw over the wall)  
Find out what happened to the other people stuck in here

\--

Day 3.  
I finally found a couple other people who came in at the same time I did—Jack Helsing and his sister Gertrude. They said they were with some others but when the void came on it went totally black and then everyone else was gone. It was probably the Hooded Figures, although I can’t figure out why some of us were spared.  
TO DO:  
Find source of food  
Will I have cell reception again when the void clears?  
What the hell is going on?

\--

Day 4.  
Today the gates were open just a crack, and the sky returned. Mayor Winchell was outside, and she made a really quiet speech. I texted what she said to Cecil, since he’ll probably be interested—she’s stepping down. When I checked the date on my phone it told me it’s been two months out there, which is pretty depressing. The Mayor crawled over the wall just before the void hit again, and when it cleared both she and Jack were gone. Poor Gertie. The Man in the Tan Jacket also appeared at this point, and said hi. He seems nice.  
TO DO:  
Find source of food!  
Find and interrogate Mayor  
Maybe the Man in the Tan Jacket can tell me what’s going on?  
Make sure to hold hands when the void comes

\--

Day 5.  
The Man in the Tan Jacket seems kind of weird at first, especially with his buzzing briefcase, but he’s actually just a fly salesman. His flies are super cute! They speak German and it’s the sweetest thing. And he also gave me half a ham sandwich that is probably not halal but I can’t afford to be picky. Still no sign of the Mayor, and we don’t see a lot of the Hooded Figures either. They’re definitely sparing us for some reason… I asked the Man in the Tan Jacket and he said we’d probably see. Luckily his flies are very brave and good at keeping away void locusts.  
TO DO:  
Find alternate writing material (running out of blood)  
Find and interrogate Mayor  
Next time we’re back in Night Vale, climb over the damned wall!


	2. Days 6-10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mayor appears; a shortage of food

Day 6.  
The Man in the Tan Jacket gave me some chalk to write with, which is wonderful, because I was starting to get really faint every time I wrote an entry. Now I’m writing on the monolith. When I woke up, Gertie was screaming as the Hooded Figures closed in on her, and she vanished with no pain. I wonder if they destroy people who show signs of weakness—she was in a pretty bad way after Jack disappeared. Maybe they’re together now.  
TO DO:  
Find source of food!  
Find and interrogate Mayor  
Man in Tan Jacket seems like he’s holding back something…

\--

Day 7.  
We found the Mayor! She was having tea under the permanently-dying, clawlike trees in the middle of the Dog Park, and we managed to scam some scones off her. Asked if she’s really resigning, and she shrugged and poured me some more tea. Man in Tan Jacket was suspiciously quiet the whole time. He knows something.  
TO DO:  
Get him to talk!

\--

Day 8.  
The Mayor disappeared, but probably because she wanted to. I’m a little surprised MTJ is sticking with me. I wish I’d thought to ask where she got scones. I’m hungry enough to consider asking a Hooded Figure for some food, but MTJ says that would probably come under showing weakness. I’ll see if I can get Cecil to send me something next time we’re in Night Vale. Managed to get something out of MTJ though: he and the Apache Tracker DID have something to do with the Mayor coming in here. He did make me promise not to write it down, though, because it might burn a hole in the nice shiny monolith. What an ass.  
TO DO:  
FIND SOURCE OF FOOD  
What the hell, does MTJ not need to eat or what??  
Probably should stop playing Frisbee to conserve energy

\--

Day 9.  
Can you eat grass? Is that okay? Humans probolbly can’t digest grass. Got inna fight w/MTJ cause he’s totally fine, what the hell. He wnt off somewhere to sluk I guess. Chalk running out. Kinda shakeey from no food. At least there’s a drinknkin fountain here. Unsure if Night Vale is real. Unsure if I am rela.  
TO OO:  
FIND FOOD!!!  
When Night Vale come back??  
say sorry to MTJ im lonely

\--

Day 10  
SO HUNGRY but MTJ came back, said it was cool. havnet moved much today, wish the Mayor were here with scones. Just gonna lean on thies monolith and sleep. told MTj wake mm~~e p if NV comes back, also he says im probably real oh good.  
OIOOO  
maybe eat own arm  
ughhhhhhh  
FIND MAYOR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is Dana.](http://t.qkme.me/ura.jpg)


	3. Days 11-15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food problems mitigated; aid from angels

day 11  
NV CCAME BACK I txegtd ceilc im mkng freiendsss and plsls sned fodo. food. so far 2 beef jereky nd some aples yesss. khope ii sottp shaking soon

\--

Day 12.  
I’m still angry with myself that I was too weak to climb the wall while it was still actually between us and Night Vale. MTJ says it’s all right, and we’ll definitely get it next time. He checked my phone for me and this time it was only a month. I guess time doesn’t pass consistently here relative to the real world. I’m not allowed to write anything juicy here, but I can say that MTJ and AT had some talks with the Mayor and gave her some info to think about very hard. Hmm. I’ll get to the bottom of this. It’s a pity MTJ is so obnoxiously mysterious, because he’s a really cool guy. I’m learning a lot about his hometown, which probably exists because it’s underground and not, like, “outside Night Vale.”  
TO DO:  
Ration food! Got some canned food that’ll last forever but not too much.  
Find the Mayor!  
Maybe give some Hooded Figures a good talking to. MTJ advises against it.

\--

Day 13.  
Hooded Figures are angry about something today. I had to hide up a tree when they came sizzling past, but they didn’t seem to notice MTJ. That’s one of the things he can do, I guess. Lay low (or high, haha) for the rest of the day, and MTJ told me about the tunnel under the Post Office that goes to the other underground dimension, although that's not where he's actually from. He and the Apache Tracker are pretty good friends, I guess, but he says they got in a fight. Wait, why am I writing this down? Is it actually relevant to the whole diary thing?  
TO DO:  
Find the Mayor!  
Maybe figure out why the HFs are upset?

\--

Day 14.  
Damn, damn, dammit! We were in the center of the Dog Park when Night Vale came back, and it was just for about 30 seconds. Got a big bag of food with a parachute from Erika. Note says they’re sorry they can’t come in, but the Dog Park isn’t a place for angels. Says, find the Center and find the Voice. Hard to say no to an angel, especially one who’s just given you a week’s worth of food.  
TO DO:  
Find the Center  
Find the Voice  
Connection with angry HFs?

\--

Day 15.  
Well, we went to the center of the Dog Park. MTJ says it’s probably metaphorical… angels are usually metaphorical sorts of people. Ate well tonight, and made a tent out of the parachute. The flies have been getting pretty tired fighting off void locusts every night, and anyway the buzzing keeps me up. MTJ hasn’t said anything but I don’t think he sleeps.  
TO DO:  
Find Center/Voice  
What is MTJ’s name? It’s getting awkward just calling him “Man”


	4. Days 16-20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Center found; a radio acquired

Day 16.  
So, turns out Erika meant the center horizontally and vertically. Duh. Ten feet up in the trees there’s this hovering gazebo or something. Can’t get a look at what’s inside. Started calling MTJ Midge (get it? like flies! I think Cecil’s sense of humor rubbed off on me.) and he says he really doesn’t care. What a spoilsport.  
TO DO:  
Get a look inside the Center  
Connection with Mayor? HFs?

\--

Day 17.  
Went back to the Center and the Mayor was there, looking nervous. She said go away, whatever’s making the HFs angry is up there. I said no I won’t because I’m a journalist and the truth should be known, probably. She said since when does the government tell its citizens the truth and we got into this whole big argument. Anyway: she started screaming at me and the HFs came to see what was going on so we left before they could consume us or whatever. Also: found out that you can’t erase any kind of writing from the monolith. I guess I should start writing smaller.  
TO DO:  
Get a look inside the Center  
Mayor/HFs definitely connected.

\--

Day 18.  
Recon on Center: HFs guarding it. Mayor nowhere to be found. MTJ sent some of his flies to check it out and they reported that it’s apparently empty, but they heard mumbling. Or something like that; MTJ’s German isn’t all that good. It should be, since the flies don’t speak English, but, like, whatever. I guess the Voice is probably incorporeal.  
TO DO:  
Get into Center and talk to the Voice  
Distraction for HFs?  
Can HFs read? What if they read this?

\--

Day 19.  
HFs are still guarding the Center! I asked MTJ if he could make a distraction, since he doesn’t act afraid of the HFs. He just kind of stared at me (I think) and didn’t say anything. It’s not a ‘no.’  
TO DO:  
Basically same as yesterday.

\--

Day 20.  
We came back into Night Vale again today! A whole lot of stuff happened… First, we were staking out the Center, and MTJ thinks being surrounded by HFs is why I couldn’t text Cecil (screen went blank, smoke came out from between buttons). But Erika sent us another package! It had more food, and a radio. I guess it’s some kind of special transdimensional radio, because it actually picks up NVCR. I didn’t know how much I missed Cecil’s voice until we caught the tail end of his June 15 broadcast. The Apache Tracker is dead. MTJ had to leave for a while. Poor guy. But it will be nice to listen to the radio with him at night, maybe it will drown out the flies.  
TO DO:  
Does the radio need batteries?  
Center/Voice &c  
Use extra parachute to improve tent


	5. Days 21-22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A distraction; a meeting with the Voice

Day 21.  
Running out of chalk. MTJ a bit better. Tent nicer now, still working on the distraction.  
TO DO:  
Find batteries  
Distraction

\--

Day 22.  
We’

The last of the chalk crumbled under Dana’s fingers. “Shit!”

The Man in the Tan Jacket looked up from where he was muttering in broken German to his flies. He probably raised his eyebrows, and said, “What happened?”

Dana brushed the rest of the chalk dust off her hands, scowling. “No more chalk. I shouldn’t have been so wordy in some of those earlier entries.” He looked at her silently. “I’m probably not going to start using blood again. I’m pretty sure I’ll still be anemic if we ever get out of here.”

He nodded and turned away. He hadn’t been very talkative since the radio told them what happened under the bowling alley (and Arcade Fun Complex). Maybe he would perk up for a good covert operation.

It was almost dark. Dana always wrote her journal entries just before the sun set—after somehow shining into the Dog Park with complete disregard for the inky void of the sky—in order not to miss anything that happened. They had never left the monolith at night, because its soothing and sensual hum was as repellent as sunlight to the Hooded Figures, and this would be the first time they went out after dark. Dana prayed that the void locusts wouldn’t swarm them under the trees and give them away.

As expected, there was a ring of Hooded Figures under the Center, facing silently outward in a display of omnidirectional vigilance. Dana glanced at the Man in the Tan Jacket, who nodded and undid the clasp of his deerskin suitcase. Flies crawled out in a black wave, over his hands and Dana’s thigh, coming on and on for almost a minute before they were finally all out. Dana waited until she heard the buzzing, and saw the dim Hooded Figures turn as one toward it, and then began to climb. 

The twisted, clawlike trees were perfect for climbing, sturdy and full of gnarls that made excellent handholds. Quickly, before the Hooded Figures could figure out that flies meant the Man in the Tan Jacket was here, she scrambled across to another tree, biting back curses as she kept snagging her hijab on twigs and barking her shins. Ha ha. Barking.

Dana was distracted from her awful punning (again, probably something she had picked up from Cecil) when she nearly fell out of her tree. She froze, clinging to a thick branch as she strained her eyes to discern the Hooded Figures through the darkness. It was hopeless. They clearly didn’t need eyes, but it was all Dana could do to make out the tree she was in. She shook her head and jumped as quietly as she could to the next tree, and nearly knocked herself out on the bottom edge of the Center’s stone pavilion. She breathed out an almost-sigh of relief and pulled herself up onto the warm, polished floor.

In the center of the Center was a low wide plinth that looked like it might be made for someone to sit on. Dana approached it cautiously and whispered, “Hello?”

Oh, what is this? A human? Humans are not allowed in the Dog Park. Are you the Mayor? Have we got a new Mayor?

The voice, though weak, had a menacing and unearthly quality to it that made Dana shudder. It didn’t help that it seemed to be coming from all around her. “No, I’m Dana. I’m a reporter.”

Reporters certainly aren’t allowed in the Dog Park. No knowing what they would say once they got out.

It sounded dangerously close to a threat, but Dana had a mission. “Are you the Voice?” she asked, stepping closer to peer at the plinth.

Why, yes!

It sounded surprised.

Usually I am more useful, but I’ve been losing power. Like something is siphoning it off.

 _I am beginning to steal your voice_ , the poem had read. _The voice that lies dying in the Dog Park._ And Erika had written it, hadn’t they? “That would be angels,” said Dana. “I don’t think they like you being able to control people just by talking.”

I could still control you. That my range has decreased does not mean that my powers have.

Dana caught her breath sharply, feeling her hands begin to sweat.

Of course, I do not see any reason to control you. And… without anyone to tell me what to say I have no idea what I would make you do. I will let you alone unless someone tells me to do otherwise. But it does not seem wise to be found here.

It would have been really nice if Erika had included anything about what to do once she’d found the Voice. As it was, she’d just made it ten times harder for herself to come back if she ever did find out what she was supposed to do. “You’re right,” she said. “Just one question. Who are you?”

The Voice of Night Vale.


	6. Lest chance again escape you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk with the Mayor; a threat

“I could say I’m impressed that you got here,” said the Mayor behind Dana, “but the Hooded Figures aren’t incredibly bright in small groups. Now, why are you here?”

Dana turned, making good use of her favorite expressive gesture of the throat, to look at Pamela Winchell. She was outlined by moonlight so that her silhouette was almost a line drawing against the void. A few locusts alighted on her shoulders, chirping and buzzing like small circular saws. “Angelic mission,” Dana said.

“I hope you know that angels aren’t real,” said the Mayor. “You really shouldn’t listen to people you know don’t exist.”

“It’s just Erika! Everyone knows Erika.”

The Mayor threw up her hands in apparent exasperation. “Oh, well if it’s _Erika_. Angels don’t exist, so Erika isn’t an angel. QED.” Dana still couldn’t see her face, but she had seen the annoyed expression that went with that tone of voice so often that she could picture it quite clearly. “How much do you know?”

That was interesting; none of the information the Voice gave her seemed important. Except that last bit, but she’d suffer maybe two hours of grade 3 torture before she gave that up. “Not much. Just that the Voice can control people by speaking, and that it’s being weakened. Obviously not by angels, though.” Dana rolled her eyes to make extra sure the Mayor knew what she thought of this. “What I don’t know is why you’re in here. Why you’re resigning.”

“I suppose the Man in the Tan Jacket didn’t tell you anything. Nice guy, very close-mouthed. I’ll have to arrange him an accident to make sure of that.”

Hot anger surged up from Dana’s belly at that. “I bet you were really happy when you heard the Apache Tracker died.”

“Did he? Wow. I’m going to have to have a talk with some Hooded Figures later. Maybe from a couple yards away.”

“Listen, I won’t let you hurt him. You can just forget it. I killed myself and I can kill you too.” She bared her teeth almost unconsciously to put the memory of that fight into her words.

“Like you could kill me.” There’s a smile in the Mayor’s voice. “I’m the _Mayor_ , remember? The key and the door and the bright colors underneath, and the burning smell of olives, and the mildewed heart of the cave, and the—” She vanished, taking the rest of the sentence with her. Dana was left staring at the place where she’d been, populated now only by a few void locusts. Dana watched the pitch-blackness where their screeching told her they were, heart pounding. Could she just jump out of the Center and land properly? Would there be Hooded Figures waiting?

She would have to risk it, for Midge. It wasn’t totally clear what powers he had, but they couldn’t possibly be as useful as mayoral powers. So she leapt down onto one of the sturdier branches of a nearby tree.

Goodbye…

Dana hardly glanced up at the sound of the Voice, too busy scanning the ground for Hooded Figures. They were all gone, which was really pretty ominous. She could no longer hear the buzzing of flies.

The Dog Park was quiet except for the faint sounds of locusts, dark and dusty-smelling. Dana could only think of one place Midge would go, and that was back to the monolith where the tent was. She began to run, although within thirty seconds she could see that there was nobody there.

Looking around frantically, Dana made out the faint sound of voices from the opposite side of the Dog Park. The Mayor was probably monologuing at him. Dana grabbed a branch from the nearest tree and snapped it off for a club, then crept to the other edge of the trees. 

All she could see was a circle of Hooded Figures at first, spaced out like standing stones, but she could now hear the Mayor more clearly.

“Obviously I know it’s not your style, but I have to make sure anyway. No hard feelings, okay?”

The Man in the Tan Jacket muttered something, and a cloud of flies swirled up around the Mayor. She began to shriek, flailing ineffectually at them. While she was distracted, Midge… Where did he go? He was standing right next to Dana, still holding his suitcase and with an inscrutable expression about him.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, tilting his head slightly toward Dana. “I don’t think the Mayor will try to kill me at the monolith.” Dana nodded. She could tell him how relieved she was that he was all right, or compliment him on his smooth escape. Instead she ran to the monolith and went inside the tent, and missed her chalk. They sat awake until morning (although in Midge’s case he would have done that anyway), listening to the void locusts throwing themselves against the fabric of the tent.


	7. Do you ever stop to look at all the blood you gather?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date; a fight

Dana was woken by a familiar voice, tinny and scratchy but recognizably belonging to Cecil. “—my best tunic and furry pants, and he had on a laid-back weekend lab coat. We were both…” Dana sat up, rubbing bleary eyes. Judging by the light coming through the walls of the tent it was midmorning, and she must have been asleep only for a few hours. The Man in the Tan Jacket was nowhere to be seen, as he often was in the mornings. “It was a perfect day, other than the strange blot of darkness buzzing on the edge of town. But that was probably another Applebee’s under construction.” 

She left the tent and stretched loudly, then went to find somewhere to pee. When she came back to get the water bottle Erika had sent last time, the Man in the Tan Jacket was sitting outside the tent with the radio, listening intently. “—as the people of the miniature city under lane five of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex continued to wage war against us with tiny bodies and tinier weapons.” He was staring at the radio, possibly frowning, but he looked up when Dana’s shadow fell over him.

“They’re being foolish. I warned them time and again that it wouldn’t be wise to attack the big people, but they never listened to me. Probably because I was big.” Dana nodded and sat down next to him as Cecil advised all Night Vale citizens to protect themselves by stomping everywhere they went. Midge winced. When Cecil told Night Vale residents about the monument to the Apache Tracker he smiled very slightly, but as soon as he heard what came next the smile slid off his face and he turned the radio off with a loud, accusatory click.

Dana watched him as he stared directly ahead, carefully expressionless. She said, “He’s not always right about everything. The only reason anyone cares what the Apache Tracker does… did, at all, is that Cecil wouldn’t shut up about him.” Midge said nothing. “Like Steve Carlsberg, you know? His only faults are forgetfulness, unfortunate political opinions, and a poor grasp of grammar, and Cecil practically tells the whole town to murder him every other broadcast! So…” He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the obsidian wall in front of him. “I guess what I’m saying is that even if everyone hates the Apache Tracker it’s mostly Cecil’s fault. Because he’s an ass.”

Midge finally smiled at that, briefly and grudgingly, and turned to look at Dana. After a moment he said, “Carlos finally agreed to go on a date with him.”

Dana laughed. “I’m not sure whether I’m surprised. Carlos is hard to read, because he literally always looks embarrassed just to exist.”

“Cecil always gets what he wants,” said the Man in the Tan Jacket, turning away. Dana put one tentative hand on his shoulder, her sweaty fingers sticking to the leather. They sat for a while, and then the Man in the Tan Jacket got up abruptly. “I’m going to see if the Hooded Figures are up to anything.”

“Be careful,” said Dana. What was he, stupid? He was the one who had said that the monolith was probably the only place where they wouldn’t try to attack him. “Dumbass.” He offered her what she chose to remember as a broad grin, even after he left and she was sitting there trying to remember the eyes that had been grinning it.

When she figured he was out of earshot, she turned the radio on again. “Carlos and I—oh, the magic of that phrase! Oh, the ecstasy that a simple conjunction can imply!—took a stroll through Grove Park.” She listened until the end of the broadcast, and a few minutes into Efficiency Hour, and when she silenced the radio Midge still wasn’t back. Hopefully he was strangling trees or something, letting out his frustration in a healthy way.

Dana started to worry when he didn’t come back after she had eaten lunch (a can of beans and one of those large apples that screamed satisfyingly when she bit into it). It was cloudy now, or at least dim, an extremely rare occurrence. She wondered whether, if this was one of the few times it rained in Night Vale, it would rain in the Dog Park too. She put the radio inside the tent, and turned it on just to check. There was a comedy sketch on, a rerun from the eighties.

A few minutes in, it started to go staticky. She thumped the radio gently. It didn’t help, and when she turned around she realized the reason why.

A party of Hooded Figures was gliding toward the monolith, lead by the Mayor. They stopped about twenty feet from the monolith, but she didn’t.

“And then I thought, wait, wouldn’t it be way easier to kill the journalist?” the Mayor said, as if continuing a previous conversation. She might well be, considering that Dana couldn’t remember last night all that clearly.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Dana got to her feet and tried not to look terrified. Hopefully soon bloodlust would set in, and it would be true. But right now she could smell the musty odor of the Hooded Figures and the animal smell of Pamela Winchell. Midge had to be okay.

As long as she had someone to be strong for, Dana could be strong. The second she was alone, she was sure that she would be consumed by Hooded Figures. Uncertainty and fear attracted them.

The Mayor shrugged off her suit jacket, still looking immaculate in a dress shirt and suspenders. What the hell? Were there showers somewhere in the Dog Park? Dana hadn’t showered for most of a month now, and she was suddenly aware of her damp stink. Dana threw her own jacket into the tent (shit, it was open, void locusts would be sitting all over her blanket tonight) and charged. In that moment nothing else mattered, just as she’d hoped it wouldn’t. 

Dana threw a punch, but the Mayor caught her fist easily and held it. Dana could feel her skin blistering as the Mayor’s hand began to glow red-hot, and so she kicked the Mayor hard in the shin. Another victory for steel-toed boots!

The Mayor let go of her and hopped backward, swearing, so Dana kicked her again, this time as close to the solar plexus as she could manage. Direct hit! Her prey fell back onto the ground and Dana knelt on her chest, grinning like a coyote. Dimly, she was aware of the hissing coming from the Hooded Figures as they tried to force themselves closer to the fight, but it didn’t matter. She punched the Mayor in the face over and over, disregarding the pain in her knuckles and the heat under her knees. 

“Ha!” the Mayor wheezed through a slightly bloody sneer. “You’ll have to do better than that.” And vanished into a choking white cloud, leaving Dana’s knees to collide painfully with the ground. Dammit! Dana jumped upright, but not fast enough, because a burning hand closed around the back of her neck. The smell of singed flesh filled the air along with the smell of the Mayor’s blood. Dana threw herself backward as hard as she could. She was rewarded with a grunt of pain and brief, hot contact with the body behind her. But the Mayor had disappeared again almost as soon as they landed, leaving only a wild, shrieking laugh that hung improbably in the air.

Dana got to her feet with some difficulty, looking around wildly, but as the adrenaline rush started to fade she saw that the Hooded Figures were leaving. Then, was the Mayor gone, too? Bloodlust frustrated, Dana spat into the dust.

“Well,” said Midge behind her. “I leave you alone for a couple of hours and you get into a fight with the Mayor.”

“She started it,” Dana snarled. “She said she’d rather kill me than you because it would be easier.” He only nodded, as this made perfect sense.

“There’s a pretty good chance she won’t try again for a while. Are you going to do something about those burns?”

His voice was as calm as ever, like he hadn’t been afraid for her. Was that confidence in her skill, or apathy? Dana looked down at her hands, and lifted the left one gingerly to feel the back of her neck. “Should be okay. They’ll heal.” With a last glance around to make sure the threat was gone, she saw that the Mayor had left her suit jacket. Perfect. Dana limped over to it, favoring her right knee, and picked it up as a trophy. Despite the heat, she draped it over her shoulders, reveling in the smell of her defeated opponent. Well, mostly defeated. At least a little bit.

“What were you doing for a couple hours, anyway?”

He shrugged. “Thinking. Reconnoitering.”

So he wasn’t going to share. It made sense, and she didn’t really want to interrogate him right now, so she changed the subject. “What would I do about these burns? Erika didn’t send any medical supplies.” Another shrug. “Thanks. Real helpful. I’ll just sit inside with my poor blistered skin and moan at you.” 

The Man in the Tan Jacket laughed, and said, “I’m sure you can take it. You could at least put a wet towel on.”

A wet towel sounded fantastic. “Mm. Thanks. I’ll go and do that.” With a collection of wet things draped over her, none of which were towels because they had no towels, Dana lay on her stomach listening idly to the monotone-female-voice-reading-strings-of-random-numbers station and talking idly with the Man in the Tan Jacket. It was really a pity about the blackened front of her skirt.

It was starting to get dark when the sky returned.


	8. I heard it tapping but it doesn't leave a trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A climb; a fall

Dana had been staring out the tent flap in a kind of stupor, ostensibly watching for the Mayor coming back, but she was jerked out of herself when the sky flickered a few times and then settled on a pretty chartreuse. It took a moment to process this, and then she jumped clumsily to her feet, banging her injured knee on the ground as she ran toward where the gate sometimes was.

“Come on, Midge!” she called, looking back to find him still sitting in the tent. “We have to try and get out of here now!”

He sat very still, and she was starting to vibrate with nerves by the time he spoke. “I think it would be a better idea for me to stay in here.”

“What?” Dana almost shrieked. “You don’t know when you’ll get another chance to leave here! Plus, the Mayor’s in here too!”

“And if you’re out there I can’t tell you anything, so she’ll have no reason to kill me.” She studied his face, trying to push down her panic. He looked completely calm, and completely serious.

“So… what, are you going to spend the rest of your life here? Midge, you’re my friend, and I don’t want to miss you or have you trapped in the Dog Park!”

“I think I can find another way out,” he said. “I have ways.” And he turned on the radio. “You should probably get going,” he said quietly. “No knowing how long we’ll be in Night Vale.”

“For god’s sake!” she snapped at him. “You think I can climb a twelve-foot wall by myself? Get over here, even if you’re not coming with me.”

He left the radio running as he stood, a small smile on his unknowable face. “Good. Let’s hurry.” He jogged to the wall, where the middle of the gate would be, and clasped his hands for her to step into them. How had the Mayor done it? Dana searched frantically for any handhold in the smooth obsidian, and found none. It had to be another Mayor power.

“I can’t climb this!” Her throat was starting to constrict itself as if she wanted to cry. She definitely wanted to cry. “There’s nothing to hold on to!”

“I’ll throw you,” said the Man in the Tan Jacket. “Be ready to catch the top of the wall.” 

Dana never would have believed he was so strong—it had to be supernatural. No human, and not even most humanoids, could have thrown a grown woman four feet into the air, but he did. She caught the top of the wall and held on, struggling to pull herself up, cursing her neglect of her combat training and her throbbing blistered fingers. As she tried to pull herself up again, something pushed up on the bottoms of her boots, and she found herself panting on top of a foot-wide stretch of black rock.

Midge was still down below, looking up at her. Gasping through fatigue and the choking knot in her throat, she called down to him. “Is there anything you want me to throw you? Once I… get to Night Vale? Anything I can do?”

“I won’t be able to reply, but maybe write me a letter now and then. I’ll try to come out as soon as I can.” 

Dana swallowed, and nodded, and said, “Don’t you dare stop trying to get out. I’ll wait…” Unable to think of anything else, she tried to smile, and it turned into that peculiar uncontrollable grimace that took over her face when she was crying. She turned away and eased herself out over the other side of the wall as the sky began to flicker again, and dropped.

She thought she sprained her ankle as she landed, crumpling to her knees against the wall and crying a little harder because damn that hurt. Her hands were hot and painful, and so was her neck, and she realized she hadn’t eaten since before her fight with the Mayor. So instead of slumping against the wall and passing out, she started to limp toward the radio station.

It was slightly more than half a mile, but it felt like the annual Eternity Race, usually started on September fourth and finished when everyone had passed out from exhaustion and lack of sleep. Maybe she had been entered in it because someone thought it would be funny, and it was already September, and everyone else was already on their five hundredth lap of Oroboros Road.

Dana wasn’t entirely sure whether she was on Oroboros Road, but she hoped not because it was actually further from the station than the Dog Park was. In the end she had to resort to propping herself awkwardly on buildings to escape having to put any weight on her right leg. It was slow, and painful, and for some reason cockroaches kept getting in her way. She tried not to step on them (because even when you’re injured you might as well try to show basic courtesy) and it only made her slower.

“GET OUT OF MY WAY, YOU LITTLE ARTHROPOD ASSHOLES!” she shouted more than once, and had to wonder why nobody was around to shush her. No… she had forgotten how bright the lights above the Arby’s could be, and it was probably two or three in the morning. It was pretty weird having a sky again.

She couldn’t bring herself to care much. She just made her way through the empty streets until she finally found herself at the door of the Night Vale Community Radio Station. Her key was still in her pocket, and she fumbled open the door eventually with fingers that felt like they’d been dipped in lye. 

Inside it was dark. It stayed dark, because Dana couldn’t be bothered to find a light switch. She practically crawled up the stairs to the second floor and, since she had a good thing going, crawled to the break room to collapse on the ratty old couch that now, for some reason, smelled strongly of ectoplasm.

She was still there when Cecil came in at six a.m. to make coffee.


	9. The gentle man in glow light is a candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food at last; a very good hug

“Dana? Dana! Oh my god!” Something was shaking her, saying her name. Barely conscious, she lashed out with a fist, probably because it could be the Mayor.

The pain in her knuckles, and the loud swearing coming from her right, woke her up a little more. “Midge?” she mumbled. “S’ry I punched you.”

“It’s no big deal,” said the voice, which was now clearly much too deep to belong to the Man in the Tan Jacket. “I’d probably punch someone, too, if I’d been in the Dog Park for five months. We’ve missed you so much! And we’re so glad you’re okay!”

Dana finally managed to open her eyes, unwilling to let go of sleep. “Gnuh. Cool. C’n I have some food or something?” When the someone said yes of course what was he thinking! and hurried out of the room she fell immediately asleep again.

The next time she woke, Dana felt much better. When she sat up, rubbing her eyes, she found rough fabric on her hands. Bandages, right. A jacket was draped over her, soft old leather that smelled like… she couldn’t quite place it. Some kind of cologne.

It became clearer whose cologne it was when Cecil walked in, smelling exactly the same as the jacket. Cecil’s jacket, of course. “Hi, Cecil,” she said. It had only been a… a month since she was last here, but it felt like a dream not being in the Dog Park. “Can I have some food or something?”

He pulled up one of the chairs from the little table in the middle of the room and leaned over her, smiling a little wanly. “We got you some fresh muffins the first time you asked that, but that was nine hours ago. We—Intern Eliza and I—ate them so they wouldn’t go to waste.”

Dana laughed. “That’s okay. How many interns have you gone through while I was…gone?”

Cecil listed them silently on his fingers for a moment, and then said, “Six. Actually, Intern Dylan was just swallowed by the new subway system, and I’m not sure whether he’s actually dead. So it might be five. Although you could have just waited to get up and look at their epitaphs on this nice new plaque.” He pointed proudly to a bronze plate on the wall, which read NVCR INTERNS KILLED IN THE LINE OF DUTY.

“That’s new,” said Dana. “Did you get it because they wouldn’t all fit on the designated wallspace?”

“No, it was the present I requested for my one-year anniversary of hosting Welcome to Night Vale. I thought they deserved something nice.” Cecil turned in his chair to smile fondly at the plaque, and Dana looked down as if she could see the interns buried under the carpet. Less than half the people on the plaque would be there.

“Yeah, so, I’d love to walk to a café or something, but I think I sprained my ankle and also I probably don’t have any money with me because…” She sighed. “I left my wallet in my jacket and it’s still in the Dog Park.”

Cecil jumped to his feet, reaching out convulsively as if he wanted to take her hands. “I’ll tell Eliza to buy you something! Um, what do you want? I’ll get her in here.” He ran out of the room, shouting, “ELIZA! COME OVER HERE!”

Dana laughed weakly because none of it felt real. Cecil was so _Cecil_ and it was like she’d never left. Of course, she had. She’d been gone for five months. Her friends would be worried, and several of them were probably dead by now. She would have missed all their funerals. Dammit.

A woman who must have been Eliza came in, smiling nervously. She had thick-rimmed glasses and bobbed hair that made her look kind of like a hipster. “Hi. Cecil said you wanted some food?”

“Yeah.” Dana tried to sit up the way couches were meant to be used, and got her legs tangled in Cecil’s jacket. “Uh, if it’s not too much trouble, can I have a really big slice of cake?” She’d had no sweets except fruit for almost a month. “And some coffee. God, I’ve missed coffee.”

Eliza nodded and left, and Dana sat quietly without thinking for a few minutes. At some point she became conscious again, and decided to see if she could walk. Maybe she had only twisted her ankle last night (this morning) and it had healed.

A quick test proved this theory wrong when she took one tentative step and then gasped and crumpled to the floor. “Okay, no,” she said, just to hear a voice, and dragged herself back up onto the couch. This officially sucked, because she was now completely useless and she would have to sit around and inconvenience everyone until she could get home.

After about three minutes of sulking she suddenly realized that she had to tell Cecil about the Voice in the Dog Park. He was sometimes called the Voice of Night Vale (usually, and this was probably significant, by older people), and he usually knew what to do. Well, it was almost always “broadcast and ask people to write with advice,” but _someone_ would know what to do. Midge definitely would have, but…

Dana was still trying to suppress slightly panicky tears when Eliza came back with a Styrofoam clamshell and a cup of coffee—did she actually have to buy that? There was coffee right here, and Dana felt stupid for not just making herself a cup. “Thank you so much,” she said, smiling a badly constructed smile at Eliza.

“No problem!” Eliza set the food on the end table next to Dana’s head. “Do you need anything else?”

“Just tell Cecil that when he has a moment I need to talk to him. Tell him it’s important.”

Cecil turned up a while after Dana had finished all her cake and crawled to the coffee machine to refill her cup. “Int—um, Eliza said you had something important to tell me.”

Dana took a careful sip. The coffee was weak and lukewarm. Cowboy coffee. “Do you remember the poem Erika wrote during poetry week? It said something like _I’ll steal your voice that lies dying in the Dog Park_.” He nodded hesitantly. “Erika sent us a note—along with more food, thank you very much, Cecil—that said we should look for the Center, and the Voice. At the center of the Dog Park was this weird floating pavilion, and the Hooded Figures really did not want us to get close to it.”

Cecil winced. “I can’t believe you’re still alive! You’re not supposed to be able to _think_ about the Dog Park too long, and you’ve been… going against the Hooded Figures’ authority?”

“It’s not actually that hard. I think they can’t consume you unless you’re afraid or something. Anyway, we got past them, or at least I did, and there was this disembodied voice up there and get this: it said it was the Voice of Night Vale.”

“Is that past tense, or, like, double past tense? Did it say…” He stopped, looking confused. “Like… uh…”

“I used present tense and it replied without using tense.” She’d missed Cecil and his tangential tomfoolery. “What my point was, was that I think it was originally a radio host at NVCR. A literal Voice of Night Vale. And somehow he got turned into a mind control weapon.”

“What?” Cecil was so surprised, or maybe outraged, that he jumped to his feet. “That explains it! I was always glad I didn’t have any toddlers to bring to the Dog Park that one time, although I did pull out several of my silver fillings.”

“Sit down, you moron. This is probably way more important, because I think it’s the reason the Mayor tried to kill me. And Midge.”

“What! The Mayor… Wait, who’s Midge?”

Dana grimaced and hid behind her mediocre coffee. “That’s what I call the Man in the Tan Jacket. It kind of sounds like his initials, and it’s also a kind of fly. You know…”

Cecil apparently found it exactly as funny as she’d thought he would. “That’s a great name for him! By the way, where is he?”

She sank even lower into the ratty cushions. “He’s still in there. He helped me get over the wall and said he’d find a way out on his own. It’s probably going to be months before we see him again.”

Cecil put a soothing hand on her shoulder, and suddenly she really needed a hug. She threw herself at him, and the cheap wheelie chair slid back a few inches.

Cecil was good at hugs. He had the kind of big, solid body that you could really fold yourself into, squishy in the right places and always warm. He put his arms around Dana as she pushed her face into his shoulder and hit her forehead gently against him a couple of times. “He’ll come back, though,” she mumbled into Cecil’s shirt. “As long as the Mayor doesn’t manage to finish him off.”

“That’s right!” Cecil exclaimed, suddenly tensing. “You said Mayor Winchell tried to kill you! Why would she do that?”

“She didn’t want me to find out anything about the Voice or why she’s stepping down. You remember how Midge and the Apache Tracker were involved when she disappeared. They’re the ones who convinced her to do it, and she doesn’t want everyone to know what they told her.” She straightened up, a little embarrassed to have hugged Cecil for so long. He was just really, really good at hugging.

He patted her on the arm. “Well, if that’s the case, we should definitely not broadcast it. Because if we do, we’ll probably get killed. I hurts to sell out my journalistic integrity, but I really do like being alive. I have an extra reason to live now! Carlos and I are _dating_!” His voice rose to a high-pitched squeak, and his grin threatened to split his face in half.

Having heard the content of the date from Cecil, Dana was not entirely sure whether “dating” was the right word for it, but she smiled indulgently. “That’s great, Cecil. Erika actually got us a radio, so I heard part of that broadcast.” Speaking of things from that broadcast… “And do you remember the part where you kept talking smack about the Apache Tracker, even though he’s dead and he saved Carlos’ life?”

Cecil had the grace to look ashamed. “Yes. But he _is_ a raci—”

“Well, stop it. Don’t you ever do that again, because I’m pretty sure you made Midge cry. And he’s usually tough and emotionless, so knock it off. It’s not your job to judge people for being stupid. It’s your job to report news.”

He hung his head. “I’m sorry, it just makes me so angry…”

“Come slightly closer so I can slap you without getting up, okay?” He looked up (was that fear?) but relaxed when he saw that she was smiling. “Maybe next time. I’ll keep my slapping hand ready.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Cecil with a crisp salute. “I have to go now, but do you need anything else?”

“I’d really like to get home eventually… See if my friends are still alive.”

“Absolutely!” He stood and gave her one more awkward stooped-over hug before leaving. He called over his shoulder, “I’ll drive you home when I finish tonight’s broadcast!”


	10. His face is a loamy bog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion; a message

Dana’s apartment had been rented out to someone else, which she felt stupid for not expecting. There was a bit of an awkward scene when the new renter, a middle-aged man, charged them with a machete after she unlocked the door. He apologized profusely but couldn’t invite them in, you understand, he was in the middle of a tricky ritual. Dana just nodded wearily, and Cecil offered to let her stay in his apartment instead. She didn’t have either the heart to refuse him or the energy to ask all of her surviving friends for a place to stay.

So she found herself sleeping on another couch, this time smelling cleaner and covered in a more respectable crocheted blanket that bore the words 6 MONTHS WITHOUT DYING! NVCR LONGEST-LIVED INTERN SINCE 1935! Technically, Dana should be challenging that record soon, although she wasn’t sure whether it counted since she hadn’t actually lived for five months during the five months she was in the Dog Park.

Dana fell asleep pondering whether she should get someone to crochet her a blanket, and when she woke Cecil had already left for work.

She knew this because he had left a cheery note on the kitchen counter: _Left for work! Take some cereal or something, but use the milk labeled NO FOOD GOES IN THIS because I mixed up the jugs a while ago. Don’t worry, it’s clean! Love, Cecil_

Cecil had some pretty weird cereal; from nasty children’s cereal that was 50% sugar by weight, to that extra healthy sort of bran cereal, to the Flaky-O’s nighttime-only cereal, which she decided to eat mostly because the rest of them looked disgusting. 

It turned out that eating nighttime-only cereal during that day was a terrible idea, because during the day it literally tasted like cardboard. She poured it down the sink, which made some angry noises and spat out a couple of pieces onto the counter. She hoped she could find a less temperamental apartment to rent later, because her previous one had been very well behaved, and she’d gotten used to it.

She used Cecil’s ancient desktop computer to look up what to do about a sprained ankle. Cecil clearly hadn’t used it for quite some time, because most of the browser history was Youtube videos of exploding predatory animals. She hit herself in the head a couple of times for not icing her ankle when it actually would have helped.

She got gingerly up, and as she turned to go back to the couch she froze. There was a horse standing in the middle of Cecil’s living room, the whites showing all around its eyes. It made a soft, disgusting horse noise of some kind, and walked into the table. Apparently it was in some pain because it collapsed, flailing, and shrank into the form of Pamela Winchell.

“WHAT THE HELL?” Dana shouted, falling backward into the chair. “How was it more convenient to get in here as a horse than as a human?”

“The Mayor does not slide on the same greased plane you do,” said Pamela Winchell as she attempted to rise. She tripped over the banged-up edge of the table again halfway through a sentence—“The Mayor is a fine _ow_! Walking on spindly legs through the forest of taller, longer legs.”

She seemed to be as incoherent as she usually was in Night Vale—but not in the Dog Park. Dana shelved that issue for now, because the Mayor looked really easy to beat up right now. And hopefully easy to escape on a sprained ankle. While the Mayor was preoccupied with interrogating the lamp on the coffee table, Dana lurched backward through the kitchen and toward the front door.

“AHA!” screamed the Mayor, vaulting the couch to grab a fistful of Dana’s shirt. “You thought you could leave, but the Mayor sees all! The Mayor is legions of eyes in a great wheel!”

She was already heating up again, and Dana’s shirt began to blacken. The Mayor didn’t seem to be entirely in control of her own powers, but her grip was like iron. She smelled like olives and charcoal, her black eyes vacant yet ferocious. Her other hand went to Dana’s throat and began to squeeze.

Dana’s fingers scratched ineffectually at her hot throat before she gave up and headbutted the Mayor as hard as possible, right in the nose. With a gasp, the Mayor let go, and Dana tried to hop at high speed toward the door. She fell painfully on her elbows as a burning hand grabbed her ankle.

“The Mayor’s feet are wheels of hot iron and her hands are the boxing gloves in the hourglass!” Dana turned over just in time for the Mayor to fall to hands and knees on top of her, lowering her forehead slowly to touch Dana’s.

The Mayor was cooling down now, panting like a dog, but contact with her skin still hurt on Dana’s face and legs. “I… you are subdued. Come still and quiet through the grotto.”

She dropped onto Dana like an electric blanket, mostly pinning Dana to the ground. Dana wasn’t happy about this, but her body was. Uncomfortably so. Dana was not attracted to the psychopathic mayor, because that would be the stupidest thing ever. It made no sense, and also the Mayor was trying to kill her.

She tried to remind herself of this as Pamela Winchell raised her head and attempted to gnaw on Dana’s chin, but instead they ended up kissing.

This was stupid. Dana was sweating profusely and the Mayor seemed to be half asleep, and for a lot of other reasons it was a terrible kiss. The one thing it did seem to accomplish was that the Mayor was confused enough to burst apart into a large amount of white powder.

Dana dragged herself to the door and then slid most of the way down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor of Cecil’s building. When she got outside she found Josie and Erika walking past, possibly on their way to Ralph’s. 

“Hey, Erika,” Dana said, leaning heavily on the brick wall and determinedly avoiding all thought. “Hey, Josie.”

Josie’s face crinkled in a broad smile. “It’s so nice to see you again, Dana! Erika’s glad you got out all right.” Erika flapped its wings emphatically and made a chirping noise.

“Thank you so much for all your help, Erika. I’d be dead without you.” Erika screeched, probably in a happy way. “I have to go, now, though—”

The Mayor condensed with a thump a few feet away, and leapt to her feet with a wordless scream. She stopped suddenly when she noticed Josie, dusted herself off, and said, “Good morning, Josie. Be sure to watch out for airplanes.” Then she hurried away, clearly unwilling to fight in public.

Josie looked curiously at Dana, so she obliged. “She’s trying to kill me because I know too much. Thanks again, Erika.” Erika seemed to be trying to hide behind Josie, despite being twice her height. “I’m not mad or anything.” Erika warbled. “Anyway, I should leave. I want to… get back to the radio station.”

Josie nodded amiably, said, “Erika says it’s almost complete!” and walked away, with Erika trailing behind. Dana set off in the opposite direction, slowly and painfully on her injured ankle.

At some point between Cecil’s apartment and the Wendy’s a few blocks away, someone had slipped under Dana’s shoulder to help her stand up. She noticed very suddenly, and almost fell over turning to look at Midge.

“You’re back!” she cried, wrapping her other arm around him. “I thought you’d take months to find a way out!”

“I just followed the Mayor,” he said. “It was pretty easy. Were you fighting with her again?”

Dana pulled back, grinning, to look up into his face. If only she’d remember how good he looked once she started walking again… “Yeah. She turned up in Cecil’s apartment as a horse, and, um. Well, I escaped.” It would be pretty awkward to tell him what exactly had happened. “I guess she doesn’t like to fight where other people can see, so she left when I started talking to Josie.”

They walked in companionable silence (at least Dana thought so) all the way back to the radio station, passing several stairways leading underground that she didn’t remember at all. She thought she saw a few of the tiny people from under the bowling alley hidden in the shadows, but that could be paranoia.

When they arrived, the Man in the Tan Jacket inclined his head and said, “I’m going now. I need to have another talk with the Mayor, but I’ll see you later. Before you see me, I think.” He clasped her hand briefly, and then melted away. She almost forgot in that moment that he’d been there, but held on to the warmth of his hand.

Right now it was time to see if she still had a job, and how much of it she could do without walking more than five feet.


	11. You hold it, squirming, and say, That is that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Festivities; the studio; conclusion

Cecil was happy to have her back, and became almost obnoxiously solicitous for a few days before she could walk semi-normally again. Dana was just relieved to get back to regular boring life: filing letters and program notes, reuniting with her friends, getting her finances in order, and eating real food all the time. It was a good day when she checked the bathroom scale of her new apartment and found that she had regained all ten of the pounds lost in the Dog Park.

There were also several parties for the first few weeks as friends and family wanted to show how much they had missed her. And maybe needed excuses to drink and play kitschy board games. Midge showed up at every one, although Dana wasn’t sure how many people noticed him. He usually leaned against a wall with a drink in his hand, watching silently as everyone else participated in the festivities. 

“So,” said Dana to him on one such occasion, “how did your talk with the Mayor go?”

“Well. I convinced her to stop trying to kill you, as long as you don’t tell anyone else about the Voice. She said… you might have reason to try, soon, and she had to take precautions.”

That was ominous, for sure. “You never said why you and the Apache Tracker got her to step down as Mayor, though.”

“It’s not important any more,” he said, although it probably was. He turned his attention toward the group of people telling loud stories about traffic accidents in the kitchen, and the conversation was over.

Aside from this, though, Dana’s life was completely normal once more. She never saw the Mayor (even if sometimes she had to convince herself that this was a good thing) and the town seemed to be going through a lull in supernatural activity. Everything was blissfully dull until the morning she came in for work and found Cecil missing.

Eliza, who came in about ten minutes after Dana, hadn’t seen him since the day before, and was equally puzzled about why he hadn’t come in. They looked all over the station, and even called his home phone, but couldn’t find anything on his whereabouts. As broadcast time approached, Dana began to panic even more than the disappearance of her friend warranted. Cecil had specifically said that if he were unable to do the show she would have to.

So at five o’clock Dana found herself in the recording booth, in Cecil’s chair in front of Cecil’s microphone. She was going over her notes, hardly able to take in the words at all, when she noticed that Midge was standing next to her.

“Did… did you know this was going to happen?” she asked him. “Does this have anything to do with the Voice in the Dog Park?”

He nodded slowly, looking somewhat grim. 

“Am I…?” She couldn’t bear to finish the sentence, but she knew he understood her when he lowered his gaze silently to the floor. So be it. She would do this for Cecil, and hope never to hear his voice again.

Maybe Erika had only let her understand as a kind of apology for what was coming next.

She began.

“You are made of meat. Your whole family is made of meat. Welcome to Night Vale.

“Listeners, it is my sad duty to inform you that Cecil Baldwin will no longer be hosting this show. He has disappeared without a trace, as, uh, the controversial often do. We will miss him terribly, but community radio must go on. I, um… I, Dana, will be your new host from now on. Uh. And now, the local news.”


End file.
